


Late Night Visitor

by Wandering_Mayhem



Series: Chance Encounters with Reno [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Drunk Reno, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 08:23:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15815124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandering_Mayhem/pseuds/Wandering_Mayhem
Summary: One meeting and several random encounters later, and the first thought that came to mind whenever you reflected on your relationship with the man is ‘interesting’. Needless to say, it’s no different when he shows up at your door late one night.





	Late Night Visitor

                The loud banging at the door was what woke up you. You ducked your head under your pillow, hoping to muffle the noise enough so that you could go back to sleep. Maybe whoever it was would go away soon.

                The person on the other side was stubborn however and banged loudly on the door again. With a groan, you pulled the pillow off your head and glared at the clock on your nightstand. It was 2:30 in the middle of the night. As you climbed out of bed you decided that the person on the other side of your front door was about to get a taste of hell.

                You threw the door open to find a familiar drunk redhead with his hand raised to bang on the door again and a surprised look on his face.

                “Reno, what the hell are you doing here?”

                “Needed ‘a finda place t’ crash, yo,” he slurred as he leaned against your door frame. “An’ some food.”

                “You do realize it’s 2:30 in the middle of the night, right? And not everyone has tomorrow off?” you asked as you glowered at the man.

                “Aw, come on,” he groaned as he stumbled past you into your house, practically throwing himself on your couch in the living room. “You make th’ besht ‘ancakes.”

                “Let me get this straight,” you began as you loudly shut the door and walk briskly to stand in front of him. “You got drunk and decided to come here of all places to demand pancakes and to sleep off your buzz on my couch?”

                “Tha’s the plan, yo,” he grinned up at you stupidly, either oblivious or unfazed by your anger.

                “I should kick your ass out to the curb,” you remark as you cross your arms over your chest and glare down at him.

                “You wou’dn’ do that,” he replies and the two of your stare at each other for a moment before you sigh with defeat and make your way to the kitchen.

                “Fine. But you owe me,” you half shout at him as you pull out two mixing bowls and a frying pan. You set the pan on the stove and turn on the burner, letting it heat up as you make the pancake mix.

                It was a recipe you had memorized as a kid when you were learning to cook from the elderly neighbor who used to babysit you. Back before Meteor and the aftermath of the near end of the world. As you combined the ingredients you heard the Turk stand from the couch and his footfalls get louder as he stumbled into your kitchen.

                “It takes time to actually make pancakes. I can’t make them appear out of thin air like a magician,” you state with annoyance as you add the wet ingredients to the dry. When he doesn’t make a witty remark like you expect you raise an inquisitive eyebrow and turn to see him standing in the doorway, just watching you.

                “Uh, you alright there Reno? I swear if you’re about to-”

                “Why are ya so nice?” he asks suddenly, and you stop mixing the batter in the bowl your holding and tilt your head slightly.

                “What are you talking about? I’m annoyed beyond belief with you right now.”

                “I know. That’s why I’m askin’. Most woulda just called Rude or ‘Laney and made them come get me. Not you.”

                It was strange. How a few moments ago he was slurring and stumbling through your apartment door and now he seemed sober enough to think straight.

                “Careful there Red, you might hurt your head with all that thinking,” you chuckle as you return to the task at hand, unsure of how to handle this rare side of the Turk.

                “Thanks yo,” he mutters, almost too soft for you to hear as he turns and stumbled into the small dining area, sitting down at the table and laying his head down on his arms.

                You stare at his back for a moment, the white button up in its usual disarray with the sleeves rolled up. You wondered briefly where his suit jacket was as you turned and started pouring the batter. Then again, there was a lot of questions you had about the current state of the man sitting at your table. But you were sure you weren’t going to get very many clear answers.

                After frying up the pancakes you walked over to the table and set the plate down with a bottle of syrup and a bottled sports drink. “Here Reno, eat something and get some sleep,” you spoke softly as you gently shook his shoulder to rouse him.

                He sat up and without a word pulled the plate in front of him, picking up the syrup and dousing the fluffy pancakes in it.

                “Good night Reno,” you yawn as you make your way back to the bedroom.

                “Night,” he says through a mouth full of pancakes as you shut the door.

 

                When the incessant noise of your alarm clock woke you, you groaned and blindly smacked your hand where you thought it would be only to accidentally shove it off the bedside table. “Really?” you grumble as you lay in the bed. After a moment the annoying beeping gets the better of you and you roll out of bed, picking up the annoying little box and shutting it off on your way to the door.

                You wondered if it had woken the Turk but when you stepped out of the bedroom you found the redhead wasn’t passed out on the cough like you had expected. You wandered into the kitchen to start the coffee pot and did a double take when you found the dirty dishes you’d left in the sink from the pancakes washed and, on the rack, next to the sink to dry along with the plate and silverware Reno had used.

                After a quick walkthrough of the rest of your apartment, which only took a few seconds since it was a small one bedroom above a café shop, you found the man you’d been looking for had left at some point in the night or early morning. “Freakin’ weirdo…” you mutter with a shrug as you go to get ready for the day.

 

                You hadn’t been expecting to see the Turk for a while. You worked out of Shinra’s public relations office in Edge so seeing the Turks was a bit of a rare thing. Heck, you’d only meet the man when the Turks had ended up investigating some of your co-workers for leaking company information. It was from then on that you had a strange friendship with the seemingly most relaxed Turk of the group.

                So, when you are walking through the hall, eyes studying the information you’d been handed about not venturing near the old reactors you were surprised to find the man leaning against the wall near your cubicle.

                “What in the world are you doing here?” you question as you catch sight of him.

                “Nice to see you too. How are ya?” he asks as he grins at you.

                “Tired,” you replied as you cross your arms over your chest. “Some drunk woke me up in the middle of the night and demanded I make him pancakes.”

                “Aw, you ain’t still mad, are ya?” he wondered with a slight pout and a gleam of humor in his eye. He didn’t even want to apologize!

                “Maybe I am,” you replied testily as you step past him and into your small workspace, not bothering to see if he follows you. “But, I suppose that can wait,” you add as you realize he’s probably there for work. How could a guy get drunk the night before work? “Take it you need something?”

                “Who doesn’t need somethin’,” he remarks as he steps up next to your desk. “But, I’m not here for work if that’s what you’re asking.”

                You look at him curiously as you set the papers you were carrying down. “Then what are you here for?”

                “It’s about lunchtime, ain’t it?” he asked as he points to the large clock on the wall that you can see over the wall of your cubicle.

                “Uh, yeah, so?” you replied, unsure of what he was getting at.

                “Well, uh,” he suddenly seemed a bit sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was thinkin’ I could repay you. For the pancakes ‘n all.”

                You stared at him with a slack jaw expression, the second hand on the clock he’d just pointed at ticking away as your mind comprehended what he’d said.

                “Are you offering to take me to lunch?” You finally inquired, needing to know.

                “Yes,” he hissed as he looked around to see if anyone had heard. You glanced at where he was looking and noticed a couple of your coworkers had started to look over curiously. It was odd for anyone to be getting a visit from a Turk.

                “Are you actually getting embarrassed?” you followed up, trying to fight back a grin.

                “What? No!” he replied quickly, then sighed as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Look, it ain’t often that I offer a chick a meal and not expect anything out of it. So, if you don’t want a free meal then-”

                “Free meal?!” you state with disbelief, “Seriously? You came over to my place, drunk off your ass, and practically pouted like a hurt puppy until I made you pancakes!? How would buying me lunch make it free? **You owe me**!”

                “Okay, okay,” he winced as he looked around. “Do ya want me to buy you lunch or not?”

                After a moment of thought, you grab your purse and stalk past him, walking towards the exit. “You’d better have a damn good restaurant in mind! And I want an actual apology!” you shout back as you continue on.

                “I always pick good restaurants!” he shouts back as he catches up with you, his long strides making it easy for him.

                “Oh, like hell! I remember seeing you in Old Hank’s Diner,” you spit back as the two of you exit the office, Reno pressing the button for the elevator.

                “Hey, that place has some damn good hot dogs yo!”

                “It almost got shut down for mice!” you argue as the elevator door dings open.

                “That was before I started goin’ there and after he cleaned up the joint!” Reno remarked, trying to defend himself.

                Finally, the doors of the elevator shut closed and cut off the sound of the two of you arguing. The office quieted down enough for the rest of your coworkers to get back to work. The department head and your supervisor stood, watching the elevator warily for a few moments longer.

                “They have a strange relationship, don’t they?” the department head asked as he kept his gaze on the closed steel doors.

                “You have no idea,” your supervisor answered as he lifted his coffee cup to his lips.

               


End file.
